March 27, 2005
What's In Your Basket?
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Leslie Walters and I am the vice president for programs. Please remember that the emergency exit is over here to my right, child care is available downstairs in the nursery,and the arm chairs here in the sanctuary are for the use of those people who need a little extra support when standing.
After the service, please join us for coffee and fellowship.
Today we welcome 13 people into our membership. Our service will also touch on Easter, the turning of the seasons, stones in our path, the priorities in our lives, bread and baskets. For our prelude, Linda chose Morning Has Broken, which is Eleanor Farjeon setting of a traditional Gaelic melody named Bunessan. Bunessan is a village on the Isle of Mull in the Hebrides. The melody is quite familiar to Americans because of the recording by Cat Stevens.
Kindling the Chalice
MINISTER. On the first day of the week, at early dawn they came to the tomb, saying:
Who will roll away the stone from the entrance to the tomb?
In the tomb of the soul, we carry secret yearnings, pains, frustrations, loneliness, fears, regrets, worries. In the tomb of the soul, we take refuge from the world and its heaviness. In the tomb of the soul, we wrap ourselves in the security of darkness.
CONGREGATION. Sometimes this is a comfort. Sometimes it is an escape. Sometimes it prepares us for experience. Sometimes it insulates us from life.
Sometimes this tomb–life gives us time to feel the pain of the world and reach out to heal others. Sometimes it numbs us and locks us up with our own concerns.
ALL. In this season where light and dark balance the day, we seek balance for ourselves.
Grateful for the darkness that has nourished us, we push away the stone and invite the light to awaken us to the possibilities within us and among us—possibilities for new life in ourselves and in our world.
(Verses 1 & 2)
Don’t Let the Stone Stop You
I invite the young and the young at heart up here to learn about the stone. The stone that won't stop you.
Good morning, children. Today is Easter Sunday, right? Who knows about Easter?
Easter is a very, very, very old holiday. Easter has been celebrated longer than anyone can remember. Longer than books have been printed. Longer than records have been kept.
Easter always happens in the spring, when plants begin to grow, when we see hummingbirds again, when animals come out of their burrows, when the earth seems to come alive again after a long winter’s sleep.
So people have always told stories about green and growing things at Easter and stories about the dawn, when the sun rises.
There is a certain story about Easter that I want to share with you. It’s not about growing things, there’s nothing green in my story, but it does happen at dawn, when the sun rises.
I guess that you may have heard the story of Jesus, right? Well, when Jesus died, it was Friday afternoon, the day before a big feast called Passover. And everyone had to make special preparations for the feast of Passover. And to tell the truth, they didn’t have time to give Jesus a proper funeral and burial. So his friends wrapped up the body and put it in a cave. And then, to keep everyone out, they rolled a big stone in front of the cave.
I mean they rolled a REALLY big stone in front of the cave. It took twenty big strong people to move the stone and block up the opening. But they finally did it.
And that was that. Until Sunday morning. At dawn, on Sunday, three friends of Jesus came back to the cave with spices and oils so that they could give Jesus a proper burial.
But they were worried. They knew that big stone would be a problem. How would they ever move it? There were only three of them, and it had taken twenty people to move the stone in the first place.
They didn’t know what they were going to do, but they walked on to the cave. They pressed on because giving Jesus a proper burial was extremely important to them. It was more important than the stone. But still , that stone was really, really big. And really, really heavy.
And when they got to the cave, they discovered that the someone had already moved the stone away. So they could go into the cave and give Jesus the proper burial he deserved.
Now I have a question for you. What’s the point of this story? What does it mean to you?
For me, the story tells me that there will always be stones in my life. Really, really big stones. Really, really heavy stones.
What are some of these stones? Going to a new school. Making friends with people you don’t know. Homework.
But the story also tells me, “Don’t let the stone stop you.” Walk on. Don’t let the stone stop you. Can you say that? Don’t let the stone stop you. And for you I have a stone, just to remind you. Remind you of what? Don’t let the stone stop you.
Recognition of New Members
FRED. Today our community is enlarged in number and in spirit by several people who join us. If every-one would please look at your program and notice when your part in this welcoming ceremony happens. New members, please step forward as I call your name and line up along the wall right over here.
[After all have been called] Today, you enter a community of people who believe that we never stop growing, that we are fragile human beings who learn best from each other. We do not have all of the answers, but here you find people who live joyfully and creatively in the gray area. Here you will find comrades and compatriots in your search for justice and peace. Here are links to the interdependent web of life. We welcome you as members of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga.
CONGREGATION. We rejoice when you walk with us in our quest for community, justice, and love. Your presence encourages and strengthens our communal life. We accept our responsibility to include you in this free and open church.
FRED. We invite you to join us in our pursuit of justice, to share our spiritual journey, to challenge us and to reflect on a life lived fully. We ask you to walk with us in freedom, trusting your instincts and reason, sharing your hopes and fears, your joys and your sorrow. As Cecile announces your name, please sign your name in our Registry of Members, and stand next to her on the opposite side of the sanctuary.
CECILE. Charlotte Davis was born in Wiesbaden, Germany, grew up and attended school in the Atlanta area, and took degrees at Mercer University and Georgia State University in Cardio-pulmonary and Respiratory Care. She worked for many years in the long term respiratory care industry, and then changed career directions. She currently serves as Dragon Keeper at Dragon Dreams Museum and Gift Shop on East Brainerd Road. Charlotte is mother of two; wife of Roger; and stepmother of two. Together, the family also has a dog, two cats, two birds, and three gerbils.
Roger Davis, Jr. was born and raised in California. He attended Stanford University and supported himself as a full-time rock & roll drummer. After earning a master’s of Urban and Environmental Planning, he went into the computer industry and founded two software companies. He’s currently Senior Product Manager for Veritas Software, soon to be merged with Symantec Software. He has two sons, and lives with his wife, Charlotte, and two stepchildren, in Mountain Shadows. Spiritually, Roger has followed both Western and Eastern religions, most closely identifying with Buddhism today, but feeling like he’s finally come home in the Unitarian Universalist Church.
Brenda Ford is food service director at a long-term care facility in Lafayette, Georgia. She holds undergraduate degrees in Food Service Supervision and Dietetics, and an MS in Institution Management. Brenda attended this church years ago before she moved, but she has moved back to the area and to this congregation. She has an eight year old son, intelligent, entertaining, full of surprises, a joy to her.
Tonia Durand grew up Unitarian Universalist in Atlanta. She moved at least once each year since age seven, across seven states and three times zones. She is newly married to Scott Evanietz, who forbade her to move again. Tonia works in mental health as a therapist to pay for art supplies, which she uses for her painting, gourds, basketry, and jewelry.
Betsey Hoyt has a Masters in textile design and is currently a stay at home mom. She was a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church in Evansville, Indiana for five years. She enjoys hand and machine knitting. She and husband Matt have one daughter, who is in 7th grade.
Matt Hoyt has a PhD in Fiber and Polymer Science. He is a new employee with Shaw Industries in Dalton where he is developing new and improved carpet yarns. He also was a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church in Evansville, including serving as president of their board. He enjoys reading and skeptics’ issues.
Gail Vickers is studying nursing and patient care at Northwestern Tech. She was raised Baptist, but feels more at home in the Unitarian Universalist Church. She was born in Atlanta and lived there until age five, after which she moved to Ringgold. Gail likes reading, especially Harry Potter, and will devour a book in a few hours. She lives with her mom, stepdad, and sister, and she cares for her nephew.
Milton White has lived in Chattanooga most of his life and currently attends Chattanooga State, majoring in math. He studied Wicca, Paganism, Atheism, Agnosticism, and Pantheism, but never found any expression that suited him. Milton now says he’s happy as a Unitarian Universalist. He believes that there is a truth in every religion and philosophy that we create, and Unitarian Universalism seems to acknowledge that.
Amy Graham was born in Phoenix, Arizona, where she grew up Catholic and went to parochial schools. She studied at Seattle University, Arizona State, and the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, taking a degree in sociology. Amy works in a law office and lives with her husband, Barry, and four cats. She practices Buddhist meditation.
James Joyner is the husband of Paige and the father of one. His hobbies include building models, games, and taking naps. James has a master’s degree in sociology from Vermont College. He is currently an adjunct professor at UTC, Chattanooga State, and Cleveland State. James is a veteran of the US Navy and the Navy Reserve. He has lived in Tennessee since 1987 and in Chattanooga since 1997.
Paige Joyner teaches freshman composition courses for UTC and is currently writing a novel about women in the Marine Corps. She enjoys walking, gardening, reading, tutoring students in English as a second language, and crochet. Over the years, Paige has left Chattanooga a couple of times, but she keeps coming home to friends and family.
Anna Marie & Noel Dillard. Anna Marie and Noel have been together for over half of their lives. Since meeting at UTC in 1986, they have been nearly inseparable. Spending everyday together as partners in their advertising/design studio, they have created a life for themselves that enables them to work from home and truly put family first. Their daughters enjoy equal participation from both parents and have had both parents there for all of their “firsts.” Adding to the zoo-like atmosphere of their home are the three cats and three dogs they consider their children too.
Noel and Anna Marie love the life they have created, enjoying each moment no matter how busy and full it may be. They have enjoyed participating in church life as visitors, and look forward to expanding their participation as members.
NEW MEMBERS. [After all have been introduced] We accept membership in this congregation as a gift as well as a responsibility. May our connections be strengthened day by day and year by year, and may the web of community be enhanced as we nurture and challenge one another.
FRED. On behalf of the Board of Trustees of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga, I welcome you into membership and full participation in this community. We hope to earn your trust and come to know you in true religious community.
CONGREGATION. We welcome you to our midst in the spirit of freedom. May your days among us be long and full; and may we prove worthy of your trust as we travel together.
Count Leo Nikolaevich Tolstoy lived from 1828 to 1910. He was a member of the Russian aristocracy and wrote War and Peace and Anna Karenina.
Tolstoy once gave a lecture about the need for pure passive nonresistance and nonviolence to all living creatures, which is a very Buddhist concept. A member of the audience asked what he should do if a tiger were to attack him in the woods. “Do the best you can,” replied Tolstoy. “It doesn’t happen very often.”
Although we collect an offering each and every week on Sunday morning, I still urge you to do the best you can. The Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank gladly accepts your donations of non–perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
You may have heard of Stephen Covey. He’s the author of Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. He’s also written other books addressing topics of interest to the business world. Another title of his is First Things First, in which he tells this story:
At a certain time management seminar, the keynote speaker presented the group with a wide-mouth gallon jar and placed it next to a pile of fist-sized rocks. After filling the jar to the top with rocks, he asked, “Is the jar full?”
The group replied, “Yes.”
He then got some gravel from under the table and added it to the jar. The speaker jiggled the jar until the gravel filled the spaces between the rocks. Again, he asked, “Is the jar full?”
This time, the group replied, “Probably not.”
The speaker then added some sand and asked, “Is the jar full?”
“No!” shouted the group.
Finally, the speaker filled the jar to the brim with water and asked the group the point of this illustration. Someone replied that you could always fit more things into your life if you really work at it.
“No,” countered the speaker. “The point is, if you don’t put the big rocks in first, you’ll never get them all in.”
You know, this little demonstration was actually devised at a time management seminar, or at least that’s the popular story behind it. But I think it applies to what you do with your life and how you make decisions about what is important to you.
Instead of a cannister like this one, I think we all have an Easter Basket we carry around. And in the basket we put all sorts of eggs. Eggs we do and eggs we think and eggs we say and eggs we eat and eggs we drink. And all the would–be eggs, too.
Some of these eggs are fresh and some sti...Well, some are not so fresh. We all have Easter baskets we carry with us.
And so at this time of renewal, rebirth and regeneration, when the earth is greening again, I wonder what’s in your Easter Basket. What eggs you put in your basket? What are you carrying around and what do you want to carry around in your basket? Can you get everything in your basket?
When you think about what’s in your Easter basket, I urge you to put in the big eggs first. Think of the big eggs in your life as the things you can do to make this a healthier and happier life for yourself and others.
Here are a few big eggs that occurred to me:
Living a life that does not deplete resources any more than necessary.
Living a life of generosity towards people and animals.
Living a life of inclusivity so that you don’t erect fences around yourself.
Living a life to include service to agencies and enterprises that improve the world and our society.
Living a healthy life. Getting more sleep.
Living a life to include time with your spouse or partner.
Living a life of creativity.
So to answer the question of my sermon title, “What’s In Your Basket?” as you have the opportunity, answer with a question. Ask yourself, “Is this a big egg?”
Break the Bread
Communion has the same root as community and common and means something shared by all, a common enterprise. Communion also has religious meanings, but today, our communion is not so much religious as it is a common ritual. As we pass the bread around, let us remember the reason for spring time festivals, the reason that we have an Easter each year and the let us remember to put the big eggs in first.
Early spring awakens memories of a deeper cold
and hopes of a warmer wetness,
sprouting seeds and budding branches.
Gray trees on gray sky screen eyes from all that lies waiting:
the color of a million flowers,
the feathers of migrating songbirds,
the blossoming smiles of friends.
Soon we will no longer look to the night stars to guide us.
Soon the path will be lit and our task certain.
In the warming days we will plant our future,
uprooting useless skeletons of last year's harvest,
breaking the clods of indifference,
carefully pulling the weeds of neglect
so that roots can stretch.
Before the harvest moon rises and we wait again,
images of still distant summer days
awaken thoughts of a time when all is done that can be done.
Then the harvest.
Then the transformation.
Then the baking.
Then the bread.
All we know and love is in this cycle.
All that has been or will be is in this loaf.
Take it.
Break it.
Give thanks and pass it on.
(Verses 3 & 4)
Announcements
Please check out the insert for important news of church life. Dolores reminds parents to supervise their children when they are using the playground.
The fellowship dinner is April 2nd and everyone is invited. Please make reservations by notifying the church office this weekend. It was suggested that we should mention that this dinner is free and also includes some modest entertainment. OK. The fellowship dinner is more than just dinner. We understand that Cole Porter will be here to entertain us. And did we mention that it’s free? It is. We hope you’ll be there.
We’ve scheduled a special forum after the service next week. The topic is, Everything You Always Wanted to Know about the Annual Canvass, but Were Afraid to Ask. It will be a simple question & answer session, probably about a half hour. If you are a new member with questions or an old one with questions, it would be good for you to attend. That’s after the service next week. BY the way, if you’d like to review the comments made at our last after–service forum about behavior, a summary of the comments is posted on our web site.
Please send your announcements to the office by Thursday for inclusion in Sunday’s service.
Our benediction today comes from the Puritans, who got New England started with the founding of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1620. You may not know that the Puritans are our religious ancestors. Unitarians trace their history to the earliest settlers in Massachusetts.
In spite of their reputation for somber pleasures, the Puritans actually liked to sing. The Bay Psalm Book is an English translation of the Book of Psalms especially made for singing. It was published in Massachusetts in 1640.
It’s a very important piece of our religious and cultural history. It was the first book printed in the colonies and it was also the first book entirely written in the colonies. The first printing press in New England was purchased and imported specifically to print this book. The book went through several editions and was in use for well over 100 years.
The poetry in the first edition is a bit awkward, but the writers considered faithfulness to the scriptures more important than poetic elegance. This is the 23rd Psalm, a favorite of many people.
want therefore shall not I:
He in the folds of tender grass,
doth cause me down to lie:
To waters calm me gently leads
restore my soul doth he:
He in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake lead me.
Yea, though in valley of death’s shade
I walk, none ill I’ll fear:
Because thou art with me, thy rod,
and staff my comfort are.
For me a table thou hast spread,
in presence of my foes:
Thou dost anoint my head with oil;
my cup it overflows.
Goodness and mercy surely shall
all my days follow me:
And in the Lord’s house I’ll dwell
so long as days shall be.
And now, for a musical expression of this theme, to end our service, Linda chose a Jim Scott piece, I Will Shelter You.
Link to this Service
March 20, 2005
Buddhism in 20 Minutes
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Fred Tresgaskis and I am the president of the board of trustees. Please remember that the emergency exit is over here to my right, child care is available downstairs in the nursery, and the arm chairs here in the sanctuary are for the use of those people who need a little extra support when standing.
After the service, please join us for coffee and fellowship.
Our service this morning will focus on Buddhism. Obviously in an hour or less, we can’t give Buddhism the exhaustive treatment it deserves, so we’ll look for bridges to Unitarian Universalism. Now connecting our music to Buddhism may be a challenge. For our prelude, Evelyn chose Peace Like a River, which is appropriate considering the emphasis Buddhism places on the peace and harmony of all beings. Evelyn, would you begin our service, please?
Peace Like a River [Trad.]
Kindling the Chalice
Hymn 389
Gathered Here
Johnny Appleseed
Good morning, everyone. How many of you like apples? I like apples, too. In fact, fresh apples are good for us.
A long time ago, there lived someone who must have really liked apples, because he went all over planting apple seedlings that would grow to become tall apple trees. Does anyone remember the name of the man who planted so many apple trees?
That's right - his name was Johnny Appleseed. Well, that wasn't his real name, the name he was given when he was born. His original name was John Chapman. But people started calling him Johnny Appleseed because he planted so many apple seedlings in the Midwest territory that is now Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois.
As Johnny Appleseed planted apple seeds in the dirt, they sprouted and became seedlings, oh, about this tall. Then he walked over miles and miles, planting the little apple seedlings.
The more apple seedlings that Johnny planted, the more the apple trees multiplied. More trees made more apple seeds, and they were planted and began to grow, too.
You know, you and I may not go about the countryside planting apple seeds, but there is something very important inside everyone of us that we can plant everywhere we go. That is the goodness that was placed within us. Not just some of us, but everyone of us.
And the more we share the goodness that is inside of us - through deeds of love, kindness, forgiveness, and helpfulness - the more that goodness grows, just like all the apple seeds that Johnny Appleseed planted over the countryside.
Amazing Grace
Well, the choir has prepared an amazing piece for us, which we’ll hear in a moment. You know, in the early days of the last century, the most amazing thing around was electricity. And most folks didn’t know anything about it. So after a series of electrical storms at Orange, New Jersey, the vestrymen of a certain church there discussed the desirability of placing lightning rods on the structure. They sought advice from Thomas A. Edison, the undisputed authority on electricity in those days. He asked them what sort of building it was. “A church,” was the reply. “By all means put lightning rods on,” said Edison. “God is absentminded at times.”
Edison had a summer residence of which he was very proud. He enjoyed showing visitors around his property, pointing out the various labor-saving devices. At one point it was necessary to pass through a turnstile in order to take the main path back to the house. Considerable effort was needed to move the turnstile. A guest asked Edison why it was that, with all the other clever gadgets around, he had such a heavy turnstile. Edison replied, “Well, you see, everyone who pushes the turnstile around pumps eight gallons of water into a tank on my roof.”
Now why, you ask, did Jeff tell us those two stories about Edison? Well, I want you to know that when you come to church and participate in the activities here, you push around the turnstile and pump water to the roof. Your mere presence gives us energy and purpose and brings life to this congregation. So thanks for taking part. Secondly, I don’t want you to forget, as God does some-times, that this congregation exists only because of your kindness and generosity. With that in mind, we’ll collect the morning offering now for the support and ministry of this church. The Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank happily accepts your donations of non-perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
Hymn 73
Chant for the Seasons
Buddhism in 20 Minutes
In several worship services this year, we have looked briefly—very briefly—at the beliefs of world religions. This has not been nor can it be an exhaustive treatment of any religion. To do justice to a religion, the proper place for that sort of investigation is in the seminary or intensive class study.
Instead, we have looked at what Unitarian Universalism and other religions might have in common, places where they walk together, concerns they share together. We also noted a few places where Unitarian Universalism and other religions take wildly different paths. Today I’d like to tackle Buddhism.
To turn things around, I’ll begin with a summary. If we can sum up Christianity with the words of Jesus, “Love God and love your neighbor,” and if we can sum up Islam with the words, “There is no God but God and Muhammed is his messenger,” then what pithy phrase encompasses all of Buddhism? Turns out the Buddhists are not so pithy as the Christians and Muslims.
To summarize Buddhism takes several long sentences. Here’s my loose, but accurate rendering: Life is out of balance and suffering is the result. The cause of life being out of balance is that people cave in to the desire to pleasure their own egos to the detriment of everything around them. However, the good news is that we aren’t obliged to cave into this selfish desire. It can be overcome. The way to do that involves eight aspects of your life and five precepts to guide your actions.
That’s the long version of the Four Noble Truths. That’s the one they play on FM radio stations. The AM version, in just a few words goes like this: Life is suffering. That’s because people are selfish. Selfishness can be overcome by following the Noble Eightfold Path.
The Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path contain the essence of Buddhist teaching and are recognized by all Buddhists everywhere, regardless of their tradition. They are derived from the first sermon that Buddha delivered after his enlightenment.
Now that the summary is out of the way, let’s go back to the beginning of the story. Siddhartha Gautama is the name given at birth to the fellow who came to be known as the Buddha, which means the one who is awake, or the enlightened one. Siddhartha Gautama was born about 560 years before the common era in what is now Nepal. His father was the ruler of a small kingdom and soothsayers at his birth told his father that if the young prince ascended to the throne, he would conquer and unite all of India. But if he did not, if he renounced his royal pedigree, he would redeem the world. His father desired the former destiny for the boy and sheltered him from the realistic aspects of life.
He was spared unpleasantness and failure. He was given everything: food, riches, dancing girls. If he left the palace, runners went ahead of him and cleared the way of anything untoward. But this scheme fell apart when the young prince encountered three aspects of life that he had never seen before: an old man, a person with a wasting disease and a corpse. And following that, he met a monk with a shaven head and begging bowl.
Thus did the prince learn the facts about life and the world. And seeing how fleshly pleasures lost their charm now that he had seen reality, he renounced his father’s kingdom, shaved his head and set out on a path to find the truth and the way to true happiness. He spent a long time studying with Hindu masters, then went through a period of extreme mortification neither of which gave him what he was searching for. But he realized that the truth could not be found in the indulgence of his palace existence or the asceticism of self–denial, but only in the Middle Way.
One evening, exhausted by his experiences, he sat down under what has become known as the Bodhi Tree, or tree of enlightenment. He vowed not to move from that spot until he reached his goal. By morning the onetime prince was gone. He had been replaced by the Buddha.
Nearly fifty years of teaching and counseling followed. He founded an order of monks and challenged the Brahmin hegemony of his day. His workload was staggering, but he managed by retreating to meditate three times a day and holding to a calendar of nine months engagement and three months retreat. He died in 483 BCE.
So what did he teach? It’s important to realize that, like Jesus and Muhammed, the Buddha’s teachings addressed the unfortunate conditions of life in his day. The Brahmin caste in India held religious authority and received it in heredity. Rituals had become mechanical. Tradition was a dead weight. Arguments abounded. Mystery was confused with mystification. God’s grace was being misread in ways that undercut human responsibility.
The Buddha preached a religion devoid of authority, and Unitarian Universalists ought to like that. He said, “Do not accept what you hear by report. Be lamps unto yourselves.” One of the first things I learned in seminary was that Unitarian Universalist ministers had better find a source of authority within themselves, because we sure weren’t gonna find it in books or traditions or rituals.
The Buddha preached a religion devoid of ritual. And today, I am not so sure about that. Meaningless, mechanistic ritual ought to be thrown out, yes, but some recurring practice is important to the congregation. It gives meaning to our life together. That’s one reason we light our chalice every Sunday.
The Buddha preached a religion that did not speculate on the origin of things or the end of things. No personal God, no divine savior. No deity interfering in the lives of mankind. Not that he disbelieved. It was just not as important as the here and the now. And sometimes you’ll hear me talk about being fully engaged in the present moment. It’s hard to do, but worth the effort, I think.
The Buddha preached a religion devoid of tradition, something that is close to authority. Again, we can appreciate what he said, “Do not go by what is handed down, nor by the authority of traditional teachings. When you know yourself, then accept or reject tradition.”
The Buddha preached a religion of intense self–effort. And that ought to ring a bell of recognition with you if you’ve ever read the works of the Unitarian ministers Ralph Waldo Emerson or William Ellery Channing or any of the New England Transcendentalists. One of their favorite themes was something they called, “Self Culture,” an umbrella term for self-improvement through good education, strong effort, the right experience and of course, the right religion.
The Buddha preached a religion devoid of the supernatural. No hocus–pocus, no soothsaying, no paranormal events. He preached an early form of WYSIWYG. What you see is what you get.
Now. That’s what he preached. And as soon as he died all the junk that he labored to keep at bay came rushing in. And so today, in some sects of Buddhism, you’ll find authority, tradition, ritual, speculation and the paranormal.
But it’s interesting to me that the religion Buddha preached is similar in many aspects to Unitarian Universalism. It was empirical, appealing to your direct personal experience. It was scientific, taking the quality of lived experience as final. It was pragmatic and therapeutic, psychological and egalitarian. And most of all, it was directed at individuals. And if Unitarian Universalists are anything, they are individuals.
I want to go back to something I left undeveloped. The Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path. And one more thing: Samsara or The Wheel of Life. These concepts grew out of the earliest teachings of the Buddha. Without bothering himself about the beginning and end of the world or who created the universe, the Buddha nonetheless developed a method for people to live their lives in a religious fashion and find their way to what we would call personal salvation. Like the Four Pillars of Islam, the Ten Commandments and the Sermon on the Mount encapsulate Islam, Judaism and Christianity, these concepts are one way to summarize the teachings of the Buddha.
This part gets sticky, so hang on. The Wheel of Life ultimately derives from Hindu traditions, but the essence of it is this: Time is not linear, but circular. Instead of roaring down the highway of life toward our destiny, we are on a giant carousel, going around and around. You may think that Buddhists believe in reincarnation, but this is not exactly true. What the Buddha preached is that when we die, the essence of our spirits return to a sort of spiritual holding tank to be reborn in another body. But the self, the part of my human existence that I know as Jeff Briere does not get inserted into another body. I don’t die and wake up as Britney Spears or the dog next door.
The Buddhist concept of reincarnation is more like placing one spoonful of water into a bucket of water and then a few minutes later, drawing out one spoonful of water. Will you draw out the same spoonful of water you put in? No way. For Buddhists, the essence of the human spirit or soul returns to life in another living being, but does not carry with it memories of its previous life. No identity is saved from one life to the next.
Now, given all the living beings in the world, what are the chances that a soul will be reborn into a human body? Pretty slim. To understand the precious opportunity we have as humans, the story is told of a blind turtle swimming in the ocean who rises to the surface once every thousand years to draw a breath of air. What are the chances the turtle will break the surface in the middle of a Krispy Kreme doughnut?
The point is that as humans, we have a chance to get off that Merry–Go–Round. We can grab the brass ring and be released from the unending cycle of life and misery and death and rebirth and so on. We can reach nirvana, a state that the Buddha described as the smoke evaporating after a candle has burned out. The way to do that, the Buddha said, is to recognize the Four Noble Truths and follow the Noble Eightfold Path.
You remember the Four Noble Truths: Life is suffering; that’s because people are selfish; there’s a way to overcome selfishness; to do so, follow the Noble Eightfold Path.
The path is pretty easy to follow. Like the paths in other religions, there are signposts to mark the way. Before walking the path, however, the Buddha reminds us always to cultivate the right company for the journey. You won’t get very far if you hang out with bank robbers. So a preliminary step is Right Association.
The next step is Right Knowledge. This consists of understanding the truth of the Four Noble Truths. That’s all.
The next step is Right Aspiration. In this step we must decide what we really want out of life. Are we single-minded in pursuit of what is important or do we fly up and down, left and right, like a kite in the wind?
,i>Right Speech. First, the Buddha said, notice your speech and notice what it reveals of your character. Then begin to change your character by changing your speech.
Right Behavior. This is the Buddha’s version of the Ten Commandments: No killing, no stealing, no lying, no booze and no screwing around.
Right Livelihood. The Buddha counseled us to be involved in occupations that help people and avoid ones that cause pain or are unethical. In his day, the Buddha noted that being a butcher, a slave trader, making firearms, brewing beer and collecting taxes were poor career choices. My guess is that today, the Buddha would have a problem with stockbrokers, politicians, pornographers, and Anheuser Busch. And gun makers. Seems like those poor career choices are still around.
Right Effort. The Buddha has no illusions that his way is easy. It requires much personal exertion. The Buddha compared the effort required to follow the path to that of a ox pulling a cart which is stuck in the mud. It’s hard work, but with steady effort, the ox pulls the cart out of the muck and mire.
Right Mindfulness. The Dhammapada is probably the best–loved Buddhist text and it begins with the words, “All that we are is the result of what we have thought.” The Buddha saw ignorance, not sin, as the adversary on our journey. To overcome ignorance, he advised continuous self–examination with a goal to free ourselves from our own perspective so that we see things just as they are, with no added coloring from our own prejudices.
Right Absorption. This final step on the path is perhaps the most difficult, but it renders the most reward. The goal is to train the mind to focus on a single object and to remain fixed upon the object without wavering. By doing this, we subdue our unruly mind so that we can develop a calm and concentrated existence that will pave the way to nirvana.
Just like Christianity, Judaism and Islam, there are divisions within Buddhism. I can tell you about them later if you want to know, but my 20 minute time limit forces me to move on to the lotus. A little drawing of the lotus appears on the cover of your program. The lotus is the most revered symbol of Buddhism. It has roots in the mud of the pond, the layer of the pond that is the filthiest. And yet it rises above that to bloom in the open air and bring delight to all who witness its beauty. In similar fashion, although an individual may be impure, there is potential to gain enlightenment.
An open blossom signifies full enlightenment and is often shown with the Buddha seated above it; a closed blossom signifies the potential for enlightenment. Lotus blossoms are depicted in various colors, pink being associated with the Buddha, blue is shown only in its budded form and represents the victory of the spirit over the senses; a red lotus symbolizes the original nature of the heart and is identified with compassion and love.
I’ve used the term enlightenment this morning and I have come to understand the meaning of the word in the Buddhist lexicon as similar to the way Christians would use the word grace. Although Christians would say that grace is a gift of God, both Buddhists and Christians would agree that it comes only to the deserving and only after a great deal of spiritual work.
And I think the power of grace and the effects of enlightenment pretty much show up in a person in the same way. A person filled with grace and an enlightened person look at things just the way they are; they practice charity or loving kindness to all creation; they have the right livelihood, the right speech and they pray or meditate. Having grace or being enlightened is amazing. It transforms mere humans into saints and bodhisattvas. I believe that the Buddha would like this song, because he’d recognize the grace that we all seek, the enlightenment he hoped we’d attain.
Amazing Grace
Announcements
Please refer to the printed announcements in your program. There is a lot of good information about the life of the church in there.
The big news is that we’ll enjoy a potluck lunch right after this service. I hope you can join us. And if you do, I hope among you there are several who will join Paul Adler and me in cleaning up this place afterwards. Our janitor is taking a spring break this week and will not be able to make his usual rounds, so it’s up to us to tidy up. If you can help, please see me or Paul after the service.
Dolores reminds parents to supervise their children when they are using the playground.
Next Sunday this church will welcome 13 new members to our congregation. If you are interested in membership, please speak to our minister, Jeff Briere.
As you can see, our SUUPER BOWL is still here. We’ll leave it up for awhile longer so that you can add your piece to it. Our new members are especially invited to add to the weaving.
The annual fellowship dinner will be April 2nd and if you wish to attend, [Holding up the banner] you must notify the office by March 27th. We need to know how many of you will be there. Childcare will be available if you need it. Please see the poster in the fellowship area for details.
We’ve scheduled a special forum after the service on April 3rd. The topic is, Everything You Always Wanted to Know about the Annual Canvass, but Were Afraid to Ask. It will be a simple question & answer session, probably about a half hour. If you are a new member with questions or an old one with questions, it would be good for you to attend. That’s after the service on April 3rd.
Please pick up your pledge statements on the round table. And remember to send your announcements to the office by Thursday for inclusion in the Sunday service.
In the Christian church, there are two rites. That’s r-i-t-e. There’s the eastern rite, which comprises the orthodox churches of Greece, Albania, Russia and other countries. And there the western rite, which comprises the Roman church and the Protestant churches. There’s at least one more, the Sarum rite. It was practiced in England in the middle ages before the Reformation. And in the Sarum rite, singing was emphasized more than in other traditions. One of the things their choirs did was sing responses to gospel readings, prayers and rituals. These sung responses are called antiphons and they were written down in the Sarum antiphonal. Well, one of the tunes from the Sarum antiphonal found its way into our hymnal. It was matched with a Buddhist text you have heard already this morning, “Be ye lamps unto yourselves.”
You’ll recall that one of the Buddha’s teachings was to reject authority and discover the truth for yourself. “Do not be swayed by tradition, influence or prestige,” he said. “The only authority that matters is your own authority.”
And so my benediction is loosely based on a hymn, number 184; the operative word being “loosely.” This tune has a rather hypnotic quality about it, which reminds us of the meditative state. Because it was composed in the middle ages, it also has the feeling of chant, something that Tibetan Buddhists are famous for. And of course, its words reflect the good advice of the Buddha. Altogether, it is a very good modern Unitarian Universalist Buddhist medieval Christian hymn. And now I’ll turn it into rock & roll.
I’d like you to join me when you feel comfortable singing this. You can look at the hymn if you think it will help, but we’re not going to follow the music as it’s written. But it’s pretty close. I’ll sing this through twice. And you can join me when you want to.
Come Rain or Come Shine
Link to this Service
March 13, 2005
Radical Hospitality
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Karl Hunt and I serve on the board of trustees. Please remember that the emergency exit is over here to my right, child care is available downstairs in the nursery,and the arm chairs here in the sanctuary are for the use of those people who need a little support when standing.
After the service, please join us for coffee and fellowship.
Today we welcome the Rev. Barbara Jamestone to our pulpit. She brings us a powerful message of Radical Hospitality. For the service, Linda will begin with the theme from the television series, Cheers, which reminds us how nice it is to be where everybody knows your name.
Portnoy & Angelo: Where Everybody Knows Your Name
Kindling the Chalice
Hospitality is more than a back yard neighborhood cookout, more than entertaining friends and family in the warmth of candlelight with gleaming silver and ivory lace. Radical hospitality is not about social graces but about mutual reverence, about receiving the other in the light of eternity, about intimacy imbued with ultimacy. Radical hospitality is dangerous, risky, and more satisfying than the most delicious meal. It is utterly simple and immeasurably precious, this being present. The table is set. Welcome. Please join me in Hymn 407, We’re Gonna Sit at the Welcome Table.
The Good Samaritan (youth story)
When I was young, I had a friend, my next door neighbor, Zoltan Veegh. That’s a Hungarian name, so everyone called him Bushie. Bushie & I did everything together. Rode bicycles a lot. Had a secret hideout. We caught crawdads and played with firecrackers. You know—all the things boys aren’t supposed to do.
There was also a boy who was not friendly to me. Mike Breen. I usually ran away when I saw him. I was scared of him, cuz he was always looking to beat me up. I guess he liked fighting, but I didn’t, so he picked on me. In his way, he also did things boys aren’t supposed to do.
So I had a friend and I had a non-friend. I’ll bet you do, too.
Today I have a story for you about a boy who had no friends.
There was this boy named Joe and he was not so popular at school. He didn’t have any friends. Not one. Nobody liked him because he was so different from everyone else. He wore weird clothes and talked funny and sometimes he acted like he was crazy. No one liked him, although he was a good student and he could throw a football real well.
One warm Friday in the spring, when everyone wanted to be outside playing, somebody tripped Joe and made him fall down. Right in the middle of the hallway when all the students were changing classes. His books and papers and pencils and his lunch and his science project went flying all over. The hall monitor got mad and hollered at him and everyone laughed at Joe lying on the floor.
Mike said, “Serves him right. He can’t even walk straight.” And everyone laughed. Mike and his buddies walked away.
Eddie said, “Oh, yuck! He’s bleeding!” Joe had cut himself when he fell. Eddie and his friends walked around him on their way to the next class.
Cathy had been standing by her locker right next to Joe when he fell. She started to pick up his books and papers. She found the pieces of his science project and put them with his books.
Cathy told Robert to get a paper towel and a little water from the bathroom and he did. Cathy and Robert helped Joe to his feet and wiped the blood off his face.
Cathy looked at Joe’s face. “It’s not a bad cut. You just skinned yourself, Joe. Here’s a towel.”
Joe was embarrassed and a little upset. “Thanks,” he said. And he laid down in the nurse’s office for awhile.
And when school was out, Robert waited for Joe and sat next to him on the bus.
This story ends with a question: Who was Joe’s friend?
Do you know someone like Joe in your school? Could you be friends with him?
Lionel Bart: Consider Yourself
The offering that we collect each Sunday is your free will gift to the church. You may not realize it, but it is a privilege to support the church of your choice. It wasn’t always so. In times past, you were obliged to attend the church of the king or the church of the state. Today, because of the country in which you live and because of the sacrifice of many before you, you may attend the church that best suits your needs. Therefore, please be generous when the plate comes your way, for this is your church, dedicated to your needs and aspirations. The Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank happily accepts your contributions of non-perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
In a spirit of meditation please join me in Hymn 401, Kumbayah. We will sing all verses, and in verse six let’s sing the English translation, “Come by here” instead of Kumbayah.
Orison
I invite you now to set aside the things you are holding,
To get comfortable in your seat, with your hands on your lap,
and take a deep breath, coming to awareness of your animal body resting in the stillness.
In this familiar place, listen: to the sounds of breathing, creaking chairs,
shuffling feet, clearing throats, and sighing all around
Know that each breath, each movement, each glance
meant for you or intercepted, holds a life within it.
These are signs that we choose to be in this company
have things to say to each other, things not yet said
but in each other's presence still trembling behind our hearts’ doors—
these doors closed but unlocked, each silent thing is waiting
on the threshold between unknowing and knowing,
between being hidden and being known.
Find the silence among these people and listen to it all—
breathing, sighs, movement, holding back—
hear the tears that have not yet reached their eyes
perhaps they are your own.
hear also the laughter building deep where joy abides
despite everything, where joy abides.
Listen: rejoice. And say Amen.
I’m honored to share this experience of worship with you today, and appreciate your kind hospitality. I bring you greetings from your sister congregation, The Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Gainesville where I am serving as interim minister. It’s been a pleasure working with Jeff and Linda to plan this service.
When I taught world religions, I led study travel, exposing students to pilgrimage sites and practices around the world, allowing them to experience a bit of the devotional feeling associated with a particular faith.
One site I never got around to visiting with students traverses the north of Spain. It’s a Middle ages rite of the Catholic church, a long walk, which peregrinos, as pilgrims are called, originally began in Paris, or someplace in Germany.
But today the trail begins where those two routes came together, at the eastern border of Spain, near Pamplona, (where they run the bulls through the streets each year.)
It then snakes westward over the Pyrenees around 500 miles, ending near the ocean at the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela,
Saint James of the Starry Fields.
A while back the occasion finally arose when I could do that pilgrimage,
The walk to Saint James, and in retrospect I find it similar to the walk we UUs take together.
I had been surprised by a divorce which left me untethered, facing decisions regarding where to live and what work to do, decisions
I had not expected to face again at all, much less as a single person.
Not knowing what else to do with myself, I decided to take a walk. I lived with friends in Birmingham for a while, and every day I got up and walked.
I walked until time to eat supper and go to bed.
If you’ve lived long enough,
you have known similar life seasons,
When after a squall your ship runs aground,
And while waiting for the wind to change,
You do something harmless, mindless, cathartic.
It’s great therapy, taking a walk.
As long a walk as you can manage.
After a month it dawned on me that this was the time
I could go and walk the Camino de Compostela.
I had the time and had been given a round trip plane ticket
To Frankfurt for a trip which had been planned before
My ship ran aground.
So, I changed the ticket to Pamplona,
Filled a back pack with one each of a very few things,
And the two books I always read on pilgrimages,
William James’ “The Varieties of Religious Experience”
And Will Durant’s “History of Philosophy” and off I went.
The trail, marked by yellow hand painted arrows
scattered about on rocks, barns and signposts,
runs through city streets, village lanes,
forest paths, and farm pastures,
And though the sites and smells are lovely,
if you’ve read Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales,
you know that the memories of fellow travelers
you meet on a pilgrimage
are probably the most important things
you will bring home with you.
And so it was for me.
Each morning on the Camino, you strike out from
Elegant hotel, or inn, or campsite, or pilgrim hostel or refugio—
Like the Catholic church,
the Camino is a classless equal opportunity experience—
And in a little bit you just fall in
With someone whose pace matches your own.
One morning I caught up with a lanky young woman
who turned and spoke to me in French.
I said all I recall of my college French,
“Je ne comprends pas le Français,”
intending to say “I don’t speak French”
though there’s no telling what I actually said!
She grinned, and we fell into silent step together.
After a hour of companionable silence,
a middle aged Asian man caught up with us,
Nodded, and the young woman,
whose name I’d later find was Marina Cartier,
greeted him in French.
Surprisingly to me, he replied, in French!
And so we strolled through out the afternoon,
me lost in my inner wilderness,
Comforted by the lilting highs and lows of the French language.
Late in the day we approached a little refugio.
I slowed to turn in and was glad when my odd couple companions followed suit.
At the desk I asked in English
whether there was a bed in the dorm,
And Marina burst out laughing.
“My God,” she said, “I thought you were a Russian.”
The Asian guy grinned broadly and said,
“And I thought you were British
And just didn’t want to talk to us!”
We staked out our beds, took a shower,
then strolled to the local tavern
for cafesito cortado, espresso cut with cream.
And just like when Jesus fed the multitudes
from the generosity of one little boy’s lunch,
we had a feast.
Marina, who lives in Quebec,
pulled bread and cheese from her pack.
The Laotian gentleman who had been orphaned by war,
transported to, and raised in Paris in an orphanage,
pulled brandy and chocolate from his pack.
I brought out some apples, and paid for several shots of coffee.
Marina noted it was odd for a teacher of pilgrimage
to be walking without a camera,
which led to each of us talking about our personal reasons
for making the Camino.
I will never forget that heart warming evening
on a cold night in a little village in the north of Spain,
and the rapt camaraderie of unlikely companions.
After the trip, I received in the mail 300 photographs,
covering the entire Camino, from Marina.
Of course I was in very few photos,
since we were together only one day!
A week or so after that, I walked up
on a tall dark handsome physician from Argentina.
He was doing the Camino in gratitude
for the recovery of his wife from cancer the year before.
We stopped for food at mid day
and met up with a retired Dutch couple,
Who walked with us till evening.
They had spent a career living all over the globe,
him being the founder of Ecco shoes.
We chatted about a simulation
“international shoe manufacturing game”
I’d played in a business strategy class, and he offered me a job
should I ever come to some country I can’t now recall.
That night I followed them into a lovely inn,
which had been a monastery.
We sat in the apple orchard until dark, chatting over white wine,
And then went to table in what had been the refectory,
Now a much renovated, elegant dining hall.
The table, food, lighting, and conviviality
among the four of us that night
Reminded me of other times
with people I loved and sorely missed,
And as they chatted amicably in urbane fashion,
I started to cry.
At first I tried to hide it,
but pretty soon the Dutch lady reached over
and put her hand on my cheek, and said, “There, there.”
Which made me cry more.
The Argentinian physician called to the waiter in Spanish,
and pretty soon
I was brought a fresh, crisply ironed, white linen napkin,
which I spent the rest of the evening filling up,
as the fire blazed cheerily
in the huge stone fireplace near our table.
My companions chatted on, now in Spanish,
since I was out of commission crying,
And since the Dutch seem to know how to speak
just about every language.
The doctor paid the bill that night, as generous doctors often do.
Nobody ever asked a single question about my tears.
We each hugged in the lobby, said goodbye,
and I never saw any of them again,
But I have saved the napkin.
Companions on the journey.
What transforms us from accidental tourists
to intentional pilgrims,
And unforgettable heart companions, for moments or days,
on the journey of life?
To my mind it’s hospitality,
a hospitality that bridges the widest canyons, crevasses,
ravines, and glacial valleys of our lives.
A radical hospitality that doesn’t meet a stranger,
that doesn’t need a common language,
That creates unforgettable, transformative,
perhaps salvific encounters.
Several times during that winter of my discontent
Which was surely a journey of a thousand miles of walking,
I experienced such casual yet profound encounters
of kindness from acquaintances and strangers,
And today I have many illustrations for these words of Jesus:
“For I was a stranger and you took me in.
I was hungry and you fed me.
I was naked and you clothed me.
I was in prison and you visited me.”
The main thing I’ve learned during this time of being
the stranger in my own life
Is that hospitality becomes radical,
Not when it costs the provider more
in terms of money or time or effort,
But when the gesture is offered
with awareness and intentionality—
When you truly see me, see what I need,
When you wash my feet at the end of a hot dusty day of walking
And dry them with a towel with my name monogrammed on it,
When you offer a depth of presence
which may last a moment in some touch or gesture,
or an hour in some conversation or meal,
and which holds eternity,
because it is guarded by the grace which hovers over the earth
with warm breath and ah, bright wings.
We talk often in our denomination
about being welcoming congregations,
Welcoming to those whose sexual preferences
are in the minority,
By participating in our UU program which is called
“The Welcoming Congregation,”
And welcoming in a larger sense,
to whomever walks through the door on Sunday morning.
Ours is a proud tradition of setting out a broad spread,
a banqueting table where all can sit and sup.
So we are becoming sensitive to any subtle keep out signs
in our language or behavior or architecture,
and are challenging those vestiges of congregational immaturity
or individual carelessness,
because our faith fixes an abundant fabulous meal,
serves up a saving message.
Our ideal of diverse companions
walking through the world together,
is a model of inclusion and acceptance
which could literally save the world.
We don’t live our ideals perfectly. Nobody does.
But ours is an ideal and a vision which could change the world.
And so we are learning to be more available, more hospitable
To those who are not like us, on first blush:
Those who share our values and are disillusioned with
The narrowing and exclusive stance of their own faith traditions,
those moderates of faith or political persuasion not our own
who will join us and bring their resources
to help enlarge our influence,
if we make room for them at this table,
if we are willing to, as Bill Sinkford says,
“come in from the margins.”
And those, sometimes called “Cultural Creatives,”
who don’t do church much, but might join us,
if they knew we existed.
And those who will never join our congregations
Because they do not share our ideology, but who have dire need,
And would gladly receive a bounteous meal or two
which we could readily provide.
And those who are marginalized
from the ever narrowing mainstream
For any number of reasons,
And would treasure the acceptance,
the sanctuary of our community.
There are many to whom we can be hospitable
in life transforming ways.
So, what keeps us
from throwing wide the doors every Sunday morning,
From offering the cheese and brandy, or handkerchief,
To every single visitor who graces our doors—
To that new member
who is making her way among us,
but not easily finding inroads,
To every member
whose life is run aground by illness or tragedy,
or by those little foxes who steal the grapes
—burned out from child care and full time work and aging parents
and financial strain and relational chaos
and bodies not working like they used to, and all the rest?
How can we cultivate that radical hospitality,
That awesome attentive presence
which Thich Nhat Hahn says is
the most precious gift we can give another?
In the book Radical Hospitality, which I recommend to you,
The authors write that “cloister” must precede conviviality,
That we must make time to be alone,
To contemplatively seek out and discover:
the sources of our timidity, awkwardness,
fear about approaching
Strangers or those in need;
The sources of our inept thoughtlessness,
blindness to or denial of the need around us;
And the sources of, the springs of greatness,
goodness, grace, abundance;
The boundless spiritual resources inside of us
which could flow freely
To those in need of radical hospitality, without costing us a cent,
But rather, which would nurture and enrich us as well
in the sharing.
Might we do a bit of cloistered inner work,
just asking questions like these:
What keeps me from noticing and reaching out
to people I don’t know
On Sunday morning?
What keeps me from offering simple gestures of goodwill
to a stranger,
From giving a bit of time, attention, and resources
to a social action project
or church clean up day or potluck or children’s event?
What keeps me from making that call to see how somebody is?
What am I spending precious moments of my life doing instead,
And is the return as great as what might come
if I risk reaching out,
Offering moments of radical hospitality?
You might find yourself responding in one of these ways:
I must lack the generosity gene,
because though I’m not mean spirited,
I just don’t think to notice what other people need.
Or maybe it’s my upbringing.
I wasn’t raised with nurturing attention
and am awkward reaching out to others.
Maybe it’s a scarcity world view born of doing without,
having lived with unmet needs again and again and again,
as we all do.
Maybe it’s an immaturity of spirit,
the “I don’t want to share my stuff”
of the young child who doesn’t want you to have any
even when she has plenty for all.
Maybe it’s the simple tribal fear of the stranger—
It’s not in our genetic endowment to embrace diversity.
Whatever it is, a little cloister time
will reveal that we just don’t feel safe
About reaching out very far into this arena of radical hospitality,
Because we sense it might end up costing us
more than we want to or are able
to give in terms of money or emotional investment or,
Perhaps our most precious commodity, time.
But you know what?
It is an error to think we need safety the most,
or that we ever save the things we hoard.
What we need most is to connect with and
to feel the deep acceptance of another human being,
to experience what MLK called the network of mutuality.
Locks, leisure time, private stashes, mutual funds
will never do for our tired and anxious souls
what companionship does.
Radical hospitality has at its core,
one of our UU values, acceptance.
Now, acceptance is not tolerating or condoning or approving.
Acceptance is embracing, receiving, as is,
Without any need to judge degrees of rightness or wrongness.
It’s when someone says in word or gesture or touch,
“You are received, accepted in the beloved, without question.
You don’t have to be deep, or cultured, or beautiful, or young,
Or healthy, or wealthy, or wise, or witty.
You can come in. Sit here, by me.”
This acceptance manifests in small, ordinary things,
single acts…which pile up on each other,
and which create a huge force
capable of repelling the cold, the dark, the wet,
capable of hailing a new creation,
of bringing in a new day, to your life, to your congregation.
When we accept a human being,
we are fostering the kind of hospitality
that can change everything.
When we build a life of acceptance, communities of acceptance
we build what I call the kingdom of god,
the realm of G-O-D, good orderly direction.
Which is not to say that it’s unreasonable to resist,
To count the cost, to measure out our hospitality
in coffee spoons,
As T.S. Eliot’s J. Alfred Prufrock did,
Because this is scary stuff,
traveling outside our comfort zone.
Holy ground is always dangerous—
thundering mountains, burning bushes,
prophets pushing us to change,
teachers suggesting that we let go,
companions with power to reject us or entrap us
if we let them get very close.
No wonder we sometimes resist behaviors
which transform Sunday service
Into sacred space. No wonder.
Holy places put us at risk more than any other places,
and they offer vast unspeakable rewards,
because they can literally scare the hell out of us—
the hell we create for ourselves, in ourselves.
They teach us that it is a great loss, to us,
if we greet every day with clenched hands
Full of our own stuff, because that stuff is illusory.
Our hands are not full when they are full of ourselves,
our stuff, and our plans.
In truth, we are vastly incomplete, inadequate, half empty,
unable to provide true fullness of life for ourselves—
because we are only human.
I am not enough by myself. I do not have the resources to
Meet my own needs, much less those of the world.
According to the authors of the book by that name,
Radical hospitality is not about social graces
but about mutual reverence.
Reverence—one of those words
which make some of us a bit uneasy,
Which is simply a recognition that,
even with all my stuff I am incomplete alone,
that there is something greater than me,
And that something, before which each of us should unabashedly bow the knee,
is us together, a network of mutuality.
The Quakers say there is a divine spark,
that of god in each of us.
You might not call that divine spark in us
to which we owe allegiance God.
I don’t usually.
But I do know that I am not the last word,
thank god, and I know that mutual reverence,
me revering YOU and you revering ME,
can save me, save us.
I know that
because I have experienced that salvation at the hand
Of UU parishioners in churches I have served.
I know that there is in me a stranger,
Unknown and unknowable, incomplete alone,
who needs to sit at table
and gratefully receive your cheese and brandy
and perhaps a napkin to wipe away tears.
And I know that stranger, unknown and unknowable,
is in you too, and that I have in my pantry what you need.
We each have utterly simple
and immeasurably precious moments to give,
Moments which are more precious than we will ever understand.
And when we extend those moments, this radical hospitality,
We receive each other in the light of eternity,
In a simple intimacy imbued with profound ultimacy,
And somehow, in that action,
we make more grace and more god,
Or whatever it is,
which we can then spread lavishly on toast
for the next person who comes along hungry.
The common bread of the daily round is then transformed
into a delicacy.
Our living tradition is not a theology easily articulated.
It is experiential, alive, a heart based affective theology,
supported by head,
and expressed or made visible by hands
with which we touch with tenderness
and by feet with which we move to protect,
and support each other.
Such an affective theology allows us to embody, to manifest
That oneness which is the profound truth at the heart of all religions.
There is more love somewhere. Right here.
Ours is a great faith feast,
and the table is set for you, and you, and you,
And me, and as many as will come, as we welcome them with radical hospitality.
I was a stranger, and you took me in.
As you folks in Chattanooga
dare to continue extending yourselves
To your minister,
To each other, to those who come here seeking,
And as you can,
to those unknown and unknowable folk who don’t share
Your faith or political persuasion or world view,
You will grow this congregation
in all the ways that growth is important,
And you will be a guiding light of vast proportion in this city.
Namaste. I honor the good orderly direction I see in you.
Announcements
Please check out the announcements printed in your program, they contain valuable information about the life of this church.
Parents are reminded to retrieve their children 15 minutes after the end of this service.
Last week, the members who were present at worship fashioned the SUUPER BOWL over here in this alcove. It’s strung with symbols of the ways in which people interact in this religious community. If you haven’t already added something to it, I invite you to add the symbolic piece of your life you bring to the congregation. You can bring something from home or you can use any of the materials that Dolores has left on the table. We’ll keep the materials out for new members who will join on Easter Sunday.
Do you recognize the characters on the front of the program? From the top down they are Generosity, Hospitality, Friendship, Learning.
Please send your announcements to the office by Thursday for inclusion in Sunday’s worship service.
Safety is not the most important value.
Let us encourage one another to live our lives
with passion and risk,
To find something important to serve.
Caring makes us vulnerable;
still let us go toward life
as if our fears had taken a deep breath and calmed down.
When we have eyes to see it,
every moment is “some enchanted evening,”
Where we may “consider ourselves at home,”
where “everybody knows your name,”
where “everything is beautiful.”
Let us go toward life.
Ray Stevens: Everything Is Beautiful
Link to this Service
March 06, 2005
Our Tapestry
Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Welcome
Good morning. Welcome to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Chattanooga. My name is Monique Lewis and I serve on the board of trustees. Please remember that:
∙ the emergency exit is over here to my right,
∙ child care is available downstairs in the nursery,
∙ and the arm chairs here in the sanctuary are for the use of those people who need a little support when standing.
After the service, please join us for coffee and fellowship.
We come from many places, many backgrounds and many experiences. We bring all those influences and weave them together to make a tapestry that is our church community. We do that merely by showing up and interacting with each other. Today, we will weave together a symbol of our community.
For the service, Steve and Marcia have prepared a piano sonata of Mozart’s, for which Edvard Grieg wrote a second piano part. The resulting piece is a little Mozart and a little Grieg, a little classical and a little romantic. It’s hard to imagine a more appropriate musical piece for a service about weaving diverse strands into one tapestry. Steve, Marcia, would you begin our service, please?
Allegro
Kindling the Chalice
The creation of a community reflects a natural and very powerful urge to connect, do good, and change the world. And we are strong when we stand and work together. These words are excerpted from The Low Road by Marge Piercy.
Two people can keep each other sane,
can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation,
a committee, a wedge.
With four you can play bridge
and start an organization.
With six you can rent a whole house,
eat pie for dinner with no seconds,
and hold a fund raising party.
A dozen make a demonstration.
A hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity and a newsletter;
ten thousand, power and their own paper;
a hundred thousand, their own media;
ten million, their own country.
It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care to act,
it starts when you do it again—after they said no,
it starts when you say, “We” and know who you mean,
and each day you mean one more.
We Would Be One
SUUPER BOWL
The idea for this service came from Dolores Wood, our Director of Religious Education. It was something she was going to do with the children—something she’s already done, actually—and I just took the ball and ran away with it.
During one of our meetings, she casually wondered what it would be like if the adults were to add their part to the weaving that the children made. Today, we’ll find out. Dolores is here with Danielle Justice and Lily Joyner to tell us about their experiences weaving a sUUper bowl. Since the children have already woven their strands into the bowl, I thought it best that they tell us about their experiences and from them we can understand why this bowl is a powerful symbol of our community.
Offertory
Andante
People who are seekers, people who are spiritually restless often arrive here shopping for a church that will give them the answers they need. They sometimes ask me questions of a very profound nature, expecting me to give them the Unitarian Universalist answer. I’m sorry to disappoint them, but I don’t have the answers.
“In this church,” I say, “there are no easy answers, no simple solutions to those abiding questions, those questions that are asked again and again by every succeeding generation. Unlike other churches, where you are given a book with all the answers, in this church all you given are more tests.”
That usually produces a crestfallen countenance. But then I say, “However, the good news is that in this church, we all take the tests together and there’s no proctor in the room, so we can compare answers.”
No one has all the answers. Not even me. Especially not me. And this is not only a Unitarian Universalist thing.
Once, many years ago, several members of a Hasidic congregation were on a picnic when they became helplessly lost in a dense forest. They were delighted when they unexpectedly came upon their rabbi who was also wandering through the woods.
They implored, “Master, we are lost! Please show us the way out of the forest.”
The rabbi replied, “I too, am lost and do not know the way out. But I have wandered around enough to know that some paths are precipitous, some have snakes and some lead nowhere. I will show you the dead ends and the dangerous paths and perhaps together we’ll find our way out of the woods.”
So let us work together to find the path to our future. We’ll collect the morning offering now for the support and ministry of this church. Later in the service we’ll take up a second collection for the relief efforts in southeast Asia. The Louis Wilhoit Memorial Food Bank gladly accepts your donations of non-perishable food and household items. The collection basket for that is by the front door.
Tapestry. From the Persian, through Greek and French, tapis, meaning carpet. A heavy cloth woven from colorful yarns, often containing scenes from a story, and hung on a wall for decoration.
The most famous tapestry may be the Bayeux Tapestry, which is about 70 meters long and was made shortly after 1066. About 7 or 8 meters are missing from the tapestry. You can see it if you go to Bayeux, France, where it’s under the jurisdiction of the local library. It has a fascinating history, being passed through the hands of medieval kings, Napoleon, and kept out of harm’s way during two world wars.
The Bayeux Tapestry is really not woven—it’s embroidered and in its original shape, was about 262 feet long and about a foot and a half wide. For comparison, a football field is 300 feet long. The scenes on the tapestry depict the Battle of Hastings and other events which occurred in 1066.
Now that was a monumental year in English history because that’s when William the Conqueror defeated them and introduced all things French to their culture. So it’s reasonable that the people would make a tapestry 262 feet long that commemorates the year 1066.
Americans didn’t embroider any tapestries, but the Civil War is a comparable event, and we have memorialized it in many ways. We have erected monuments, sewn quilts, written books, made paintings, movies, plays and made parks of former battlefields. Some people dress in hot, heavy and scratchy 19th century woolen militia garb and re–enact battles. The Civil War was important to our history and it’s reasonable to commemorate it.
As for tapestries, the most famous American tapestry may be Carole King’s album of that name from 1971. So you can see, in typical American fashion, we have re–defined a word to suit ourselves. A tapestry can also be a vinyl disc with grooves designed to be spun on a platter and through vibrations and electronics, make music.
Tapestry—in its original sense—is not a word that we use too often these days. It implies many hours of minute handiwork, overwhelming attention to detail, the inevitable eye strain and mental boredom. Who’d want to make a tapestry when we can just as easily rent a billboard? Why bother with needles and pretty yarns and hours of skull–numbing stitching when we could just put up a web site?
Because when you make a tapestry, you take time, you make a design and you put something of yourself in it. It becomes something that defines you and you become enlarged by it. And the same for this church community.
It would be easier to stay at home on Sunday and read the paper or dig in the garden. It would easier if you didn’t bring a casserole of green beans to the potluck. It would be easier to spend the weekend at the coast instead of going to the church retreat. It would be easier not to participate in church life.
But when you make the effort to attend the auction or chair a committee or teach a class for the religious education program, you put something of yourself into this community. Your participation then begins to define you and then you become enlarged by your participation in this community. You can’t do that with a bill board or a web site.
It’s as if the church is no longer bricks and mortar, but sweat and spit. Every time we see the new playground and the sound booth, we’ll remember Walt Jenison’s work. Every time I see this chalice, I recall that Mary Hunter gave it to us. When we enjoy our Seder Supper, we’ll remember Lee Adler, Helen Solomon and Daidee Springer as the holy trinity of kosher cuisine.
And I’m just talking about the folks I know. I never knew Phil Livingston, who donated the grand piano. I never knew Charles Counts, who threw that pot over there. I barely knew Ray Duncan, who made our candle holder. I know Kent Slawson pretty well, and I think of him when I use this stage and see our sign.
I’m a late–comer to this congregation. I’ve only been here a year and a half. But I feel the presence of those who wove their lives into this community before me. I hope their hopes, and I hope we live their dreams.
Now that I think about it, Carole King might have chosen the exact right word for an album of her own music. Tapestry. The songs on that album were personal—her own compositions—and they depicted various scenes and moods in her experience. I have no doubt that she threw herself into the project and spent a great deal of time on it.
Our Tapestry. Our tapestry is what we make it. Who we are, what we bring and how we interact in community. Today we’re weaving a symbol of ourselves.
We have a frame of branches and that seems appropriate, for Unitarians and Universalists were never the main trunk of Christianity—they were always the branches, the off–shoots, the folks who went out on a limb.
And the limb was sawed off behind us. Unitarians were declared heretics in 325 and the Universalists in 451. Today in our community, there still are Christians, but they sit beside others who are Jews, Humanists, Agnostics, Buddhists, Pagans and Atheists. So our frame—our reason for being—is to branch out.
The frame is circular, indicating the never–ending story of humanity. Although members die and others are born, our community never dies, for its dreams and its culture are passed on to each new member who joins us.
The frame is shaped like a bowl. A bowl holds valuable things. In this case, it represents the way we are lovingly held by our community. Each Sunday, when we share our joys and sorrows, we hold each other in love.
The frame itself is woven, and it holds itself together with only its own strength, which is actually increased through the weaving. Our church holds itself together only through the strength of its members. We don’t have a bishop or a presbytery to hold us together.
The warp of our tapestry are multi–colored yarns strung into the branches. And the children have shown us the way with what they brought to this tapestry. And that’s appropriate, too, for children seem to make a community first, falling into a friendship easily and quickly.
And all these bits of ribbon, these swatches of cloth and other ephemera, these are images, just as clear and detailed as those in the Bayeux Tapestry. They show what happened here. They show us in this community.
Being a part of this religious community is an important episode in my life, and that’s a good reason for me to take part in weaving our tapestry. So I’ll add mine now. This is a guitar string, which represents my love of music and the arts I bring to the worship service.
It’s now time for you to be part of our sUUper bowl. This half of the congregation, over here will go first. Please line up along the wall and as you weave yourself into this community, tell us about the item you put into the sUUper bowl and what it means to you.
Now this might feel strange if you are visiting this morning, but I invite you to participate, because for a few hours this morning, you are part of this community. You are here, we are together and for a little while, we are a community. Perhaps what you bring is transient, but it’s still important and it still is part of this moment.
Dolores has provided some materials for visitors and for those who just could not find the right thing at home. On the tables over here are ribbons, raffia and other things, and scissors to cut smaller pieces. So I invite you now to be part of our sUUper bowl. Please tell us your name and what you wove into the bowl.
***************
The other half of the congregation, over there—now it’s your turn to be part of our sUUper Bowl. Please line up along the wall and as you weave yourself into this community, tell us your name and tell us about the item you put into the sUUper Bowl and what it means to you.
Weave
Announcements
Please look over the insert to your program. It has important information about the life of this church.
As for announcements, should they be printed or spoken? If you have something that’s really important to you, I usually get a request that it be read. If you have recently heard too much talk in the service then I get an e–mail denouncing all the superfluous talk. Some want them all read, others want them all printed. My personal preference is to print some and read the ones that are important to the entire community. But still, I catch hell from both sides.
So here are five announcements, one of which was received with a request to be read and the others of importance to all.
Parents, please make sure your children are properly supervised when they are using the new playground.
The annual fellowship dinner is April 2nd. Your copy of the newsletter had an invitation in it. It’s free and you are invited. All you have to do is let the office know you will attend. That’s critical. We need to know who is coming, who needs child care and we need to know how much food to prepare.
The annual Strides of March Walk is a benefit endurance contest the proceeds of which are donated to those in Chattanooga whose lives are afflicted with human immuno–deficiency virus or Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. We encourage your participation and forms are displayed in the fellowship area. We make this announcement, because the the two people who normally lead our walkers in this event, Nancy Anderson and Dolores Wood, cannot be at the rally this year, and they would ask for your support. If there is, among you, someone who would agree to lead the walk and take care of our banner, it would be appreciated. Please see Nancy or Dolores for information.
After the service today, there will be a training session for Canvass team captains. Please see Bill Berry or Fred Tregaskis for information.
Also later today, The Laramie Project will be staged by Grace Episcopal Church. This is a dramatic production composed from hundreds of interviews of the residents of Laramie Wyoming after the brutal murder of Matthew Shepherd in 1998. This is a show that’s pretty important to me, as I performed several roles in it at General Assembly in 2001. I think the tickets are $5 and Kate and I invite you to join us for this show. It’s at 2:30 this afternoon, Grace Episcopal Church, 20 Belvoir Avenue. I hope you can join us.
And now, in the Unitarian Universalist tradition of asking more questions than answering them, for a benediction, I pose these questions from William Stafford.
Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers?
What softened sound from outside fills the air?
Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now?
Are you waiting for time to show you some better thoughts?
When you turn around, starting here,
lift this new glimpse that you found;
carry into evening all that you want from this day.
This interval you spent reading or hearing this, keep it for life—
What can anyone give you
greater than now,
starting here,
right in this room,
when you turn around?
Presto
Link to this Service